Haze
by Spottedeyes
Summary: Enforcers. They're something Goldenpaw has grown up around. They are the official police of the clans, travelling from clan to clan to prevent another war like the one that first caused their existence. Goldenpaw has always had a knack for seeing through facades, and something about the Enforcers seems dishonest, and she's not one to wait for things to reveal themselves.
1. Before you read

Hi! Thanks for clicking on my story! Before you start reading, I would like to explain something that might make this story easier to understand! I have just recently discovered the works of William Faulkner, who wrote The Sound and The Fury, and I decided I wanted to try writing something in the stream-of-conscious writing style he used because it impressed me so much.

Stream-of-conscious writing acts like an actual brain: letting the present make a lot of connections to the past as a character moves through his or her life. Since I haven't ever written like this and it's difficult to navigate at times as a reader and a writer, I have decided to use Warriors to help me figure this style out because I grew up with these books and it's just always been easier for me to write about this.

Still interested in reading? Hopefully you said yes, in which case, I'll give you some clues that'll help you adjust to this strange writing style. Italics mark a shift in time. If a paragraph is italicized, it means the present is either bridging into a past memory, or a past memory is coming back to the present time. Generally, there will be little triggers in the present time that will indicate a past scene is coming, be it the mention of a character or a smell. If you keep with it, these cues will become easier to spot. It sounds a lot worse than it actually is, I promise!

The prologue is written just like any other author on this website would write a prologue, there is no skipping around in the prologue, it is one continuous scene. Chapter one is where the stream-of-conscious writing comes into play. I will be happy to explain and walk you through if you are baffled by anything that goes on, you've just got to either review and ask about it or send me a PM. A review would be best because chances are if you are confused, a whole lot of other people are too and I'd like everyone to be able to understand the plotline of this story.

Also, general feedback would be great, I like to improve on things, especially when I'm learning/trying something new like this. Thanks again, and enjoy!

~Spotty

Ps: For anyone who reads Broken Shells, I am half-way through the next chapter, I am so, so, so, so, so sorry about the wait, I've just been really busy and I'm just at an awkward part of the story right now, so it'll take some time to get her up and running again. Again, I am very sorry!


	2. Prologue

_e:_

The frigid air was taut with an unspoken tension. A full moon cast a blurry glow that fell like mist over the clearing, and the stars felt invisible to the forest's inhabitants. Within the eerie cloud of the moon, all four clans stood, a mere five cats from each clan to represent their peers.

Unlike the friendly, news-sharing gatherings typically held beneath the rounded eyes of the moon, this was all business. Only the elite were present: leader, deputy, medicine cat, and two hand-picked warriors of the leader's choice. The groups of five were clearly separated, glowering at each other while suspicious murmurs were shared; even the healers seemed full of animosity and distrust, though theirs was less conspicuous. War had ravishing the lake territories for moons, and now, part way through leaf-bare, the clans were feeling the consequences of the fighting. Hardly any herbs essential to the healing process were still growing beneath the frost, prey was scarce and scrawny, and the anxiety was slowly driving everyone insane.

Wolfstar of ShadowClan, a thick-furred sable she-cat with haunting amber eyes, stepped forward first, her breath swirling in a warm cloud around her muzzle as she breathed. Her notably long whiskers twitched at the conflicting temperatures of her breath and the surrounding air, and her fangs, despite having sunk into numerous bodies, still presented that youthful white color when she parted her jaws to speak.

"Are we going to talk, or are we just going to huddle around our clanmates glaring at each other? Because if we are, I'm sure we'd all be a lot happier going back to our dens." She sneered, earning hate-filled looks from other clan representatives.

"I don't know, are we, Wolfstar? Because you seem like you'd much rather spill more blood like the rogue you are," Newtstar, RiverClan's leader, bit back.

Wolfstar smirked haughtily, stepping further from her circle of protection closer to Newtstar, who snarled at her sudden closeness. Newtstar didn't cower, though, meeting Wolfstar's stare head-on, his brown and gray-mottled coat ruffling in the night zephyrs. His unusually light green eyes were narrowed into slits befitting of an adder, and his ears unconsciously pulled back onto his skull.

"I'm a rogue now, Newtstar? That's a new one." Wolfstar responded, her voice light and airy as though she was talking casually to a clanmate, while her irises darkened and her claws dug into the freezing earth.

Newtstar didn't falter under her harsh stare, "You have broken the code numerous times, Wolfstar. You don't deserve the title of a warrior, much less a leader's. You are no better than a dirty rogue, you take pride in brutality and have the nerve to pass on these immoral ethics to your apprentices."

Wolfstar's eyes gleamed wickedly, "I suppose you're right," she unlocks her claws from the dirt below and slashes Newtstar's muzzle before she finishes exhaling.

The RiverClan leader yowled in surprise and pain, unintentionally stumbling away from Wolfstar, who crouched and prepared to lunge.

"Stop!" The bird-like cry of Meadowrose, ThunderClan's medicine cat, cut through the moment between Wolfstar and Newtstar, who both froze under her plea. Both turned to stare at the tortoiseshell she-cat, whose fur was bristled to the point where she looked double her actual size. Her amber eyes were wide with horror, quite possibly the only pair who was still truly opposed to the violence plaguing the clans.

Out of all the clans, Beechstar of ThunderClan had tended to keep his clan the most out of the carnage, presumably because of the brown and cream tom's not-so-well-hidden affections for Meadowrose, who detested the bloodshed. Their clan was the least damaged and the healthiest in the lake territories because of this, whereas ShadowClan had thinning numbers due to Wolfstar's bloodlust.

The clearing went stiff, the only sounds filling air being Meadowrose's ragged breathing and the light breeze wafting across the lake.

Again, Wolfstar broke the silence with a remark, "Beechstar, control your kittypet; make her roll over or something." She snorted, her focus returning to Newtstar, whose muzzle was now streaked with his own pride.

Meadowrose looked appalled by Wolfstar's words, while Beechstar was livid; no one ever dared to disrespect Meadowrose, not in his presence, at least.

Before Beechstar could elevate the rising hostilities, the silent WindClanners joined the meeting. Hollowstar, a thin-pelted white she-cat with gray and brown markings, spoke, "As fun as this all is, we are not going anywhere. We said we'd meet here and compromise until we came up with some solution, and we all know it'd be going back on all of our words to just sit here and berate each other with kit-ish insults like this."

"Alright, what do you suggest then, hare-breath?" Newtstar spat, a silent fire blazing in his irises as the shock of Wolfstar's strike wore thin.

Hollowstar's ears flicked in annoyance, "How about stop taunting each other so we can actually get something done?"

Hollowstar's speaking took Wolfstar's attention from the bleeding Newtstar, making her regard the moorland inhabitant with some morbid curiosity. Her umber eyes were trained on Hollowstar, a predator transfixed on its prey. A throbbing urge bubbled up within the dark she-cat, and all she could think about was sinking her teeth into her windpipe; she could almost taste the metallic, poisonous tang of blood with the help of the scent of Newtstar's bleeding.

Mothtuft, ShadowClan's medicine cat, felt a wave of dread wash over her as she recognized the gleam in Wolfstar's eyes. She wanted desperately to break her focus, but she didn't dare; Wolfstar was obsessed with blood and death, and from that moment, Mothtuft knew it was either her or Hollowstar.

Beechstar, still seething over Wolfstar's words towards Meadowrose, tersely asked, "You start throwing out ideas, then."

Hollowstar looked from her clan members to her opposing clans' members thoughtfully, "Maybe we need something new, something neutral."

"Like?" Beechstar pressed, his anger fizzling out as he began to think of solutions himself.

"Like," Newtstar suddenly joined in, "Code enforcers," he suggested, sneaking a glance at Wolfstar, who paid him no mind.

Hollowstar's eyes lit up, "Yes! Something to enforce the code, something to enforce peace in times of scarcity, like in leaf-bare, to make sure no clan suffered a cold, desolate war ever again."

Whitefur, Wolfstar's deputy, spoke, "How would that be possible?"

"A third party," Beechstar stated.

"Like rogues?" Newtstar scoffed, looking skeptically at the RiverClan leader.

Hollowstar shook her head, "No, not rogues, but yes, a third party for sure."

Wolfstar, eyes still fixed on Hollowstar, wordlessly stalked closer, completely lost from the conversation.

"Like a fifth clan?" Whitefur questioned, scowling at the absurdity of it.

"Perhaps, but I don't know how that could be done," Newtstar said thoughtfully, "There's always going to be some bias, and sides will be taken if there's a third party, bribery, something's going to corrupt it. I say we just all make peace with each other and make an oath to swear on our lives that for the rest of leaf-bare and new-leaf, we have no conflicts so we can all rebuild. This third party stuff isn't going to work."

Hollowstar shook her head, "No, that won't work either; do you really think after how much we've been fighting that we could just stop like that? Someone's going to ruin it, Newtstar. We need a real solution, even if we hold to the oath, we'll still fight again."

Newtstar snorted, "Alright, then tell me how this 'third party' would work? Where would they come from, what rules would they follow, and where would they live? What would make them so special that we would all just back down and submit to their orders?"

Beechstar watched Hollowstar curiously with some sort of wonder that his third party suggestion had made it this far, anxious for what she would say next.

"They… they would live amongst the clans," Hollowstar began, "Rotating through clan-to-clan on different time frames."

"And?" Newtstar prompted, "This has corruption written all over it, Hollowstar. If a bunch of cats hopped from clan-to-clan, some bribes and favors are going to be requested, and these cats are going to just become glorified spies for the clans to use against each other. This won't stop war, it will create war!"

Hollowstar shook her head again, "No! Because there would be a code for them, a different one from ours-"

"What would that do? If they're above the law, this won't work!" Newtstar interrupted, his lips pulled back into a defiant snarl as his thick tail swooshed irately behind him.

"Of course it would, these cats would have the integrity our ancestors had, these cats wouldn't ignore their set of rules." Hollowstar insisted.

Wolfstar continued her steady approach to the WindClan leader, who, engrossed in her conversation, failed to acknowledge her advances. A feral look had taken over her features, and nothing but blood on her palate could stop the horrid urge she felt to do this.

"Alright, Hollowstar, and who would these almighty, wonderful, pure-hearted cats come from?" Newtstar snapped, "Because right now, nothing is right, even our best warriors that we have brought along tonight are corrupt and biased, there is no purity left, and you know that."

Hollowstar didn't respond at first, "Well, I'm not sure. All clans would have to contribute, I know that-"

Newtstar scoffed, "How would that work? This idea isn't going anywhere, I say we all just do the oath and deal with this later!"

Meadowrose chipped in, "Why don't the medicine cats go to the Moon Pool? Maybe StarClan can give us some answers so we know if an oath is the right way to go, or if we should try the third party thing, or if we should do something else."

The cream colored ThunderClan leader looked proudly at his medicine cat, "That's a good idea, Meadowrose," he looks to the respective medicine cats in each group, "Jaggedridge, Lightfall, Mothtuft, would you be willing to do that?"

Mothtuft didn't notice her own name's mention, her breath baited as she watched Wolfstar move with grim expectation, completely out of tune with the meeting.

The medicine cats didn't respond, but Newtstar did.

Newtstar snarled, "How dare you address Jaggedridge? I am his leader, not you, Beechstar. Do not speak to him without my permission, or I'm calling this whole truce off."

Beechstar looked baffled first, then flat out angry, his fur sticking up like needles in the night. "You are being completely ridiculous, Newtstar! I was merely confirming what _my_ medicine cat was suggesting! How does that equate to me controlling or acting inappropriately? Wolfstar didn't even react like that, when that horrid beast of a leader doesn't react and you do, you know you're overreacting." He spat irately.

Meadowrose shrank back in response, her pelt heating with embarrassment and horror that her suggestion turned into a full out argument.

"Stop, this is why we are still at war with each other!" Hollowstar cried, "We get so touchy over nothing! Enough! We came to negotiate, not-"

Wolfstar hit like a bolt of lightning, her unsheathed claws making contact with the white WindClan leader's cheek first. Each sharpened curve latched deep into Hollowstar's flesh before promptly tearing backwards, splattering blood in dew-sized drops on both she-cats. Wolfstar's eyes held a wicked, sadistic gleam to them as she clamped her lovely white fangs into Hollowstar's shoulder and reinserted her claws into her chest and side.

Hollowstar yowled in shock and pain, her already-battered body twisting around in Wolfstar's grasp in an attempt to wriggle free. Wolfstar had none of that, deepening her hold and tearing through flesh. Metallic crimson spluttered in uneven pulses from Hollowstar's wounds as other cats began to react to the sudden attack.

Clawfoot, Hollowstar's deputy, was the first to lunge to his leader's defense, slashing at Wolfstar's thick black pelt. The addition of Clawfoot spurred Whitefur into the fray, tackling the WindClan deputy clear of Wolfstar as she ripped into the screeching Hollowstar.

More and more blood seemed to spill across the clearing, pooling around both fighting pairs of cats. Mothtuft looked on helplessly as she watched Wolfstar, her eyes more specifically. They shone with a savage, macabre look that couldn't be explained properly; this was her, she was in her element. The dull yellow tabby looked at the other clan representatives, seeing the shock, hatred, and confusion among them. This is why ShadowClan had this reputation, it was Wolfstar's fault, her best friend.

Wolfstar didn't always act this way, it was the warring, Mothtuft told herself, it was just the warring, once the fighting stopped, things would get better.

A sudden, sickening snapping sound silenced the clearing. Nobody moved, Clawfoot and Whitefur didn't move a muscle, freezing mid-strike.

All eyes were on Hollowstar. She looked so small, her white and tan fur nearly black from the bloodshed, her eyes were wide open, pleading almost, but they weren't bright anymore. Her neck was half-way severed and twisted at an unnatural angle that looked horribly painful. But that wasn't why everyone was staring.

She wasn't alive. StarClan hadn't brought her back.


	3. Chapter 1

**_Oh goodness... here we go, hope this goes alright!_**

 _1:_

Goldenpaw walked along the riverbank, her sleek white and gold coat watered down by the river water from her swim. She didn't especially feel like going back to camp with dripping wet fur, even though it wouldn't be frowned upon. She wondered if she just didn't feel like going back because of her mentor, Mottlemarsh. The elderly she-cat was dying, past time filling her belly rather than cod and bass, and new insanity blooming in her glazed-over eyes.

Goldenpaw hated seeing her like that, waiting less than patiently for death while trying to cram lessons into her apprentice.

 _It was a she-cat; rare in Enforcers, she was gorgeous too, she remembered. Her pelt was white and streaked with silver that glowed in the natural light, her muscles were perfectly toned, and her eyes were blue and bright, but focused all the same._

There was an Enforcer, a female, a rarity in the Enforcer world. She was silver and sitting in the driest part of the camp; none of the Enforcers seemed to like the water very much. Goldenpaw wanted to approach this female Enforcer, but Mottlemarsh said she shouldn't. "You'd do best to be chary with those Enforcers, Goldenpaw," she told her, "I don't trust them, not at all; they're a shady bunch."

The Enforcers didn't appear to be all that different than the clan cats, because they weren't. Goldenpaw knew as well as anyone else that these cats were not celestial beings with supernatural powers, but regular cats plucked from their respective clans four moons from birth to be trained into these positions. Small groups of two to five cats shifted from clan-to-clan every moon, so the same Enforcers were hardly around, but Goldenpaw, at seven moons old, was beginning to learn the faces, just not the names.

There was this single silver she-cat and one other she-cat in the Enforcers, a bulky blue-gray thing with a darker, intimidating stare that sawed straight through her. All the rest were toms, most broad-shouldered and well-muscled with harsh eyes that made Goldenpaw want to avoid eye-contact at all costs.

Goldenpaw watched the silver Enforcer, tempting her to go and ask for her name. She'd seen this one a few times before, vaguely from a distance, when she was still in the nursery with her mother and sister, but never had the courage to approach her. Now she was a medicine cat's apprentice; a healer, a cherished and essential part of RiverClan. She was sure that now would be an okay time to speak to an Enforcer. After all, Mottlemarsh couldn't dictate every little thing she did; she wasn't her mother, a line needed to be drawn.

Placing Mottlemarsh's words in the back of her mind, she took a step away from her mentor and the safety that the medicine cats' den promised and started towards the silver Enforcer. Mottlemarsh growled her disapproval, "Goldenpaw, what happened to being chary?"

Goldenpaw turned her head back to Mottlemarsh, "I am being chary. If she's dangerous, shouldn't I know at least something about her? Name? Temperament? Anything?"

Mottlemarsh grumbled something inaudible as Goldenpaw came close enough to earn the silver cat's attention. Her blue eyes locked warily onto Goldenpaw's frame, but didn't speak until the apprentice did.

"Hi, my name's Goldenpaw. I'm the medicine cat's apprentice here, and I've seen you a couple of times, so I thought I should get your name." Goldenpaw spoke, trying her best to sound unintimidated, but her voice still came out squeaky.

The silver cat stared blankly at her, "I am here to keep the peace, not to make friends. Address me, and any other of my associates, as Enforcer."

Goldenpaw's pelt had flushed with embarrassment and awkwardness pulsed through her when she realized this wasn't going where she'd hoped it would. "O-okay then, Enforcer, sorry to trouble you," she stammered, backing away to her place beside Mottlemarsh, who was there and eager to dish out an "I told you not to talk to them" to her.

 _The yellow and white apprentice felt guilt overwhelm her; she was a healer's apprentice, soon to be the only healer in RiverClan, she shouldn't be hiding from Mottlemarsh like this. Her being soaked with river water was a petty excuse from wanting to hide from her mentor, the cat who'd become more of a patient to her than a teacher in the past few moons._

She forced herself to turn towards camp, scolding herself for her evasive behavior. Camp wasn't very far away from where she was, so it didn't take long to find the familiar reeds that hid RiverClan from view. There were two routes to get into camp from the reeds, the dry-paw route, which the Enforcers always took, or the water way, the one that required one to swim a little to get into camp.

Goldenpaw loved water, but hated having to be dripping afterwards, and she was already part-way dry by the time she made it to the reeds, so she took the dry-paw path: a thin muddy strip that ran along the side of the calm waters that encircled the RiverClan camp.

She nudged the reeds aside and started on the dry-paw path.

 _Goldenpaw was with a promiscuous apprentice called Owlpaw, a pretty brown tabby with dainty white paws and light blue eyes. She was a close friend to Goldenpaw's sister, Stormypaw, and had begun to speak with Goldenpaw more and more as time crept onwards. Though Goldenpaw didn't exactly like how Owlpaw lived her life, she was still pleasant towards her._

Owlpaw was mooning over an Enforcer in the camp, a powerful-looking white-smudged black tom with deep amber eyes that made her swoon. She didn't know his name, no one did; Enforcers didn't give out their names, you had to recognize them from scent and appearance. That was why Owlpaw was determined to be the first to crack an Enforcer, get his name and fall in love with him. She already appeared to be in love already, but this was Owlpaw, she flirted with a lot of toms and acted this way all the time, so Goldenpaw wasn't convinced that what she was observing was love. She didn't tell Owlpaw, though.

The two apprentices sat off the side near the calm river water that floated lazily around the camp. Goldenpaw felt at ease; the wet, muddy scent of camp always calmed her. She felt almost aloof to Owlpaw's ramblings, she only half-listened to Stormypaw's friend.

"How would you get an Enforcer to open up?" Owlpaw asked, her eyes holding an element of frustration after pursuing the smudged tom for the past half-moon and getting absolutely nothing out of it. "I eat my prey beside him, I talk to him all the time, I ask him lots of questions, I complement him a lot-"

Owlpaw stopped herself, her irises lighting up. "Oh! I know what I've got to do," she turned to me, "Thanks, Goldenpaw!"

Goldenpaw was left bewildered as Owlpaw bounded towards the Enforcer, who sat with a serious, but otherwise blank, look on his face near the driest edge of camp. The white and sun colored apprentice watched Owlpaw curiously while she spoke to the Enforcer, who looked around the camp, before nodding something to her. The two left together straight afterwards, both taking the dry-paw path.

 _Goldenpaw entered camp, shaking her fur out as she came into the busy clearing. Troutpaw, Reedpaw, Dustpaw, and Darkpaw were pawing through the fresh-kill pile; Lightfleck's kits, Plumkit, Iriskit, and Storkkit, were wrestling in front of the nursery; and Nettlestar stood talking with Applefur, the deputy, near his den._

She looked around somewhat expectantly for Mottlemarsh, as she usually liked to lay out in the sun just outside the medicine cats' den, only to find her nowhere in sight. Her heart fell, and she padded to the mouth of her den and peeked her face in. The cavern-like den was its usual deep dark, like night. 

_It was dark when Owlpaw came to her. She was sleeping in her nest when the pretty cat prodded her awake. Groggy and disoriented, Goldenpaw didn't register who she was in front of her at first until Owlpaw cuddled up to her in her nest._

"Owlpaw?" She'd grumbled, a feeling of confusion washing over her as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light in the den.

She hissed softly, "Goldenpaw, I did something."

 _Goldenpaw sighed at the sight of Mottlemarsh, who was nearly in the same position she'd left her in that sunrise._

Mottlemarsh was spread out across her nest, which Goldenpaw had lovingly adorned with swan feathers and shiny pebbles from the river she loved so much. She wasn't curled up, though, it made her stiff to get up and pained her to complete the actual action of curling into a tight bundle like usual. Her legs jutted out like logs, tense-looking and ratty from her lack of grooming, and her scent had grown somewhat rotten in the recent moon.

She watched Mottlemarsh with sorrow, suddenly longing for Stormypath's company; her sister always knew how to make her feel better.

 _"_ _You know, I bet Stormypaw would be very interested in whatever you did right now, and maybe I'll be interested in the morning." Goldenpaw yawned, not registering the grim tone to Owlpaw's voice._

"Please, Goldenpaw, please just listen to me," she pleaded, "Stormypaw can't know about this, she's not neutral like you are."

Waking up a little more, Goldenpaw asked, intrigued, "What'd you do that's so terrible?"

"I got more than just a name." Owlpaw shuddered, curling herself tighter into Goldenpaw's nest.

 _The apprentice settled in front of Mottlemarsh, watching her intently for a few more dying pauses before getting to her paws and leaving the den; seeing her like she was pained her._

Leaving the den was like entering an entire new universe. Where her own den was dark, moist, and smelled of rotting life, the outside was bright, vibrant, and lively. It made her want to forget Mottlemarsh's woes and her predicament: the obnoxious, towering oak tree sprouted in the center of camp that was her name.

Despite all she did for the clan, represent them at gatherings, heal their wounds, connect them to the past, it was all in vain if she didn't have her name. Without her name, Goldenpaw was worthless, helpless against whatever life threw at her.

 _Her eyes widened and she whispered to not wake Mottlemarsh, "Owlpaw… what'd he do?"_

Owlpaw shook again and choked out, "He broke me, Goldenpaw. I don't know what I'm going to do."

 _Nettlestar didn't respect her at all, it seemed. He regarded her with askance as though she was a foible, a dishonest liability of some sorts who could never live up to Mottlemarsh's legacy. Goldenpaw didn't disagree with Nettlestar entirely; she'd never be Mottlemarsh, but she could still live up to expectation, that was her problem with Nettlestar. She was certain, even though she'd done nothing to deserve his suspicion, Nettlestar would never move past this imaginary horrendous act she'd committed. Attaining her name would help, but it would never go away._

She was concerned that she would be unable to work alongside Nettlestar in the near-future, fearful that, despite the threat of looming Enforcers, he would strike and exploit her tethers to their spiritual ancestors. Ultimately, Goldenpaw knew she'd have the upper-paw if Nettlestar hurt her in anyway; she was a young, pretty, female medicine cat against an older, irritable male leader. She would get the sympathy and support, but it wasn't what she needed.

Goldenpaw needed respect and trust, and she was quaking at the thought of going for it without Mottlemarsh behind her, waiting to snap at anyone who stood in her way of it. She was always a bit of a meek personality, careful not to be insensitive and striving to make her clan happy and as united as possible. Nettlestar wasn't making it easy, though.

She thought about her clanmates, how they had respect, how they got it. Stormypath was a strong personality, owning her beauty and blemishes boldly, but she'd never been seriously questioned like Goldenpaw had. Then there was Owlface, the fading personality.

 _Owlpaw wasn't Owlpaw anymore. She had a hollow personality and became more and more reclusive, leaving the apprentices' den only to eat and train. While the white-smudged tom was still in camp, Goldenpaw felt nervous, not just for Owlpaw, but for herself and the other she-cats in RiverClan. After Owlpaw spent so much time in the medicine cat's den, Mottlemarsh figured out what happened, but she had no pity. She told Goldenpaw that Owlpaw made an example of herself for her to observe and remember: you don't engage the Enforcers._

Goldenpaw became wary of the Enforcers, truly wary, after Owlpaw's transformation. She understood their purpose, to keep the clans at peace and orderly, but sometimes she didn't feel that they were doing that. The Enforcers were overlords to the four clans, dictating what they could and could not do. They accompanied hunting and border patrol, they were given supreme importance in clans, even eating before the queens and the elderly.

Every time there was a kitting, Enforcers would check the new additions for qualities of an Enforcer and take the kits away as soon as they're weened if they do. Mothers and fathers are not allowed to name these selected kits, and the Enforcers stationed at the particular clan typically parent the kits rather than their own parents.

As she grew, Goldenpaw realized that these cats were monsters. Powerful, intelligent, sharp-voiced, demanding monsters that no one felt like could be beaten.

When Goldenpaw was still in the nursery, her mother would tell her and Stormypaw the lore behind the Enforcers, how conflict and desperation for peace had mutated into Enforcers. She defended the Enforcers, saying that the bloodlust of Wolfstar, the ShadowClan leader of the time, would not have been allowed to flourish into to Hollowstar's calloused murder like it did in the story had Enforcers been around to curb it. And while Goldenpaw admitted that there hadn't been any tyrants in control in her lifetime or her parents', it didn't mean that the Enforcers weren't tyrants, though, and everyone knew who was really in charge. The Enforcer just chose to hide it by claiming that the only way to keep everyone safe was to be strict and intimidating.

Something told Goldenpaw that Enforcers were meant to be neutrals like herself; not loyal to anything but the will of StarClan and their taken oaths. It was their original purpose, it was why no Enforcer spoke to the clan cats in a friendly manner and why no Enforcer stayed in one clan for more than a moon. Enforcers were meant to never have favorites, never have relationships of any kind, never voice opinion, and to be selfless. They held true to the first two, but the last pair was corrupted. These cats were by no means selfless, and they did voice their opinions to the public more often than necessary.

It was easy to see why Mottlemarsh didn't trust these cats.

 _As the moons went on, apprentices grew into warriors. Stormypaw had grown into a lovely pale gold cat with her dark eyes that her mother named her for, becoming Stormypath. Owlpaw, the once outgoing and promiscuous she-cat, had become a reclusive shell of her former-self and took the name of Owlface, a name the old Owlpaw would have anguished over, without complaint._

While the apprentices became warriors, Goldenpaw couldn't help but acknowledge how badly Mottlemarsh was aging. Her spotted deep brown pelt was course and oily looking with thinner patches of fur in all the wrong places. She became bony and frail in build, and her head often hung low. Her once pretty green eyes were dulled and sunk deeper into her skull in a tired motion. Mottlemarsh just looked old. She hurt when she moved, leaving Goldenpaw to do most of the work for her ailing mentor, treating a great deal of the wounds from training mishaps and gathering herbs.

"Goldenpaw, be a dear and fetch more marigold. We're running low," Mottlemarsh would grunt out

When it came time for Mottlemarsh to eat, Goldenpaw would go fetch her a small to medium sized bass, knowing it was the only thing she'd take. Even then, she wouldn't eat every bite of it. Goldenpaw worried for her, knowing she wouldn't last too much longer.

During Goldenpaw's fifteenth moon, Mottlemarsh announced to her that she would be unable to make it to the gathering and Goldenpaw would have to go alone. Going to that first gathering without Mottlemarsh made Goldenpaw feel naked in a way, stared at, judged, and she couldn't quite understand it. Nettlestar, RiverClan's leader, seemed on edge without Mottlemarsh, as well, clearly uncomfortable with just having a mere apprentice to represent RiverClan's ties to StarClan.

 _Nettlestar was a bulky tom with a thick, bracken-colored coat and light green eyes. He was about as old as Goldenpaw's parents, and he had succeeded the previous leader just after she was born. Nettlestar stopped by Mottlemarsh's den often, asking onslaughts of questions regarding the future as though she was some sort of oracle. He seemed fascinated with seeing into the future and interpreting dreams, he wanted to see the dead walking amongst the living, he wanted so much from Mottlemarsh, who would avoid his ridiculous notions._

Goldenpaw watched her mentor with wide, curious eyes. The mottled she-cat was seated with a hunch in her aging form, her eyes dulled and tired looking as Nettlestar settled before the medicine cat and her apprentice.

"Is there something I can do for you, Nettlestar?" Mottlemarsh asked, not even bothering to sweeten her dry, bitter voice.

Nettlestar was not deterred by Mottlemarsh's hostility, "Would you mind going to the Moonpool today?"

At the mention of the Moonpool, Goldenpaw quivered in excitement; she hadn't been yet, but heard of its power through these conversations between Mottlemarsh and Nettlestar. She eagerly listened in on the two, hoping Mottlemarsh would agree so she could go early.

Mottlemarsh scoffed, "Why of course not, of course I'll just drop everything I'm doing to spend an entire two days traveling to the Moonpool, when I'm old and have a brand new apprentice here to teach. Every day I have with Goldenpaw is precious, Nettlestar, so no, I will not go to the Moonpool unless it is either a true emergency, or a scheduled meeting between at least one other clan's healer, Nettlestar."

Goldenpaw's shoulders slumped and her excitement dimmed. She should've known; Mottlemarsh was always stressing that to her: don't waste time on something that can wait.

Nettlestar looked surprised at Mottlemarsh's blatant disrespect towards him, but persisted nonetheless. "Please do reconsider, Mottlemarsh, I haven't even told you why I want you to go."

The elderly she-cat turned away to show disinterest, gripping a bundle of rich green catmint stalks in her teeth to store from that morning's herb hunt she'd taken Goldenpaw on. With a flick of a tail, she grumbled, "If you insist on wasting my time, go ahead; I might not be listening, but you go on and talk."

His whiskers twitched with annoyance, but he went on. "I want you to contact StarClan and ask when the next big war will occur; I'm sure these Enforcers of ours won't work forever."

"Now, while I agree that Enforcers are a big fat waste of space and prey, I'm not going all the way through WindClan territory to ask such a minuscule question. War is not our concern right now." Mottlemarsh responded somewhat harshly, moving onto the stiff reeds splayed across the den's floor, gathering them into a neat pile.

Goldenpaw desperately wanted to speak and convince Mottlemarsh to go to the Moonpool with her, but opted against it when the Enforcers were mentioned. She didn't know a lot yet, but she knew that, at least around Mottlemarsh, not to get involved in a conversation about Enforcers; she was honestly surprised Mottlemarsh mentioned them to Nettlestar, as they were a taboo subject between the both of them.

Mottlemarsh dismissed Nettlestar with an authoritive swish of her tail, but Nettlestar continued. "Mottlemarsh, I am the leader of this clan, and I am above you-"

Mottlemarsh gave a ragged purr that came out more as a wicked cackle, "You? Above me? Nettlestar, as far as I'm concerned, we're partners. You deal with the killing of the prey and the managing of the patrols and whatnot, and I deal with the idiots who hurt themselves and interpret signs from StarClan; if anything, I'm above you, but technically, we're equals. Do not treat me like am below you, and do not treat Goldenpaw like she is below you. We are not tools, Nettlestar. We do not have to obey you."

Nettlestar glowered at her outburst, "I am not some fish-brain, Mottlemarsh. I have StarClan's approval-"

"Well I have StarClan's voice, StarClan's approval, and StarClan's protection," Mottlemarsh cut off haughtily, looking more and more irritated as the conversation dragged on. "I am more of a leader than you are. Now, keep you muzzle out of our business and go back to organizing your patrols. I am done speaking with you about this matter, Nettlestar."

"Well when can you go then? To the Moonpool?"

Mottlemarsh snarled at her leader, "Whenever the other medicine cats deem it fit! And when I do go, I will not ask such a ridiculous question! There has not been war since before my parents' parents lived!"

Goldenpaw looked uncomfortably at the entrance of the den, expecting an Enforcer to barge through and break the two apart, as they usually mediated these types of disputes. None came, and she was grateful; Mottlemarsh was worked up enough, seeing an Enforcer in her den would only upset her further.

Nettlestar looked furious, but helpless all the same. He knew the consequences of striking a clanmate; the Enforcers would be on him in a moment's notice if he did so much as swat at her. "This isn't over, Mottlemarsh," he said, an empty threat recognizable to even the young Goldenpaw, who watched on with poofed up fur and wide eyes.

Goldenpaw warily kept her eyes trained on her leader as he sulked out of the den, staring even after he'd gone until Mottlemarsh broke her trance.

"Goldenpaw," she barked, "Stop standing around and help me sort through the supplies, Leaf-fall is coming and we need to take inventory."

 _Owlface didn't have anything to prove, she was quiet, sleeping most of the day and hunting occasionally. She wasn't much a burden, not eating any more than she caught. But Goldenpaw couldn't be like Owlface, she couldn't just fade into the background, she was a vital bone in RiverClan's anatomy; without her, the clan wouldn't function properly._

Goldenpaw had taken on a responsibility that she hadn't been able to comprehend as a kit, and it was all hitting her now. Head hung, she sat in the shade by the reeds across from where the Enforcers tended to sit, the stronger scent of the river calming her.

 **How'd it go? Again, if you have any questions regarding what is going on/what happened, just ask me! General feedback would also be very much appreciated. (:**

 **~Spotty**


	4. Chapter 2

The Doge Who Has No Ships: Thanks for being the first reviewer and for the compliment! I do try (:

2:

Mothtuft's eyes were clouded as she rearranged the herbs in her stash to avoid leaving her den. Flashpaw, her apprentice, was working alongside her. The usually energetic young black tom was quiet; he knew what happened at the mini gathering the night before. He knew Wolfstar impulsively murdered Hollowstar.

She hated how he snuck wary, distrustful glances her way every so often. Wolfstar was considered Mothtuft's mother, as she'd found her before she was even deputy as an abandoned kit by the ThunderClan border. Mothtuft wasn't ThunderClan, so Wolfstar took her in, and the two shared a close bond. It was close enough for Mothtuft to understand Wolfstar's nature. Wolfstar wasn't an evil cat, war just took its toll on her morality. As she killed more and more cats, she began to distance herself from their lives, treating them more like troublesome twoleg place rats than fellow clan cats. It happened to a lot of cats in all four clans; Wolfstar was just the only leader who'd lost themselves to the bloodlust. Of course, a lot of cats didn't understand that, especially not cats like little Flashpaw, who'd only been training with her for three moons.

She tried to give Flashpaw reassuring, friendly looks whenever she caught him staring, "You really mustn't feel so uneasy around me, Flashpaw; you don't have a reason to, you know I'd never lay a claw on you."

"I know," Flashpaw mumbled unconvincingly, still avoiding eye-contact as best he could.

Mothtuft sighed, stopping her organization of the limited amounts of marigold. "Flashpaw-"

"Daughter!" The familiar shout of Wolfstar's voice seemed to unbalance both Flashpaw and Mothtuft, who shuddered a little.

She gave another sigh; she couldn't hide behind her herbs and apprentice anymore.

"Coming!" Mothtuft responded, giving Flashpaw an apologetic glance, "I'll be right back, Flashpaw. Do not worry."

With a flick of her pollen-colored tail, Mothtuft left her apprentice on his own and padded into the clearing. Wolfstar stood impatiently in front of her den, her intense gaze burning holes through Mothtuft's conscience.

"Today, daughter!" Wolfstar barked out, getting to her paws and entering her den.

Mothtuft always found it strange how Wolfstar always called her daughter, as no other actual kit and mother called each other 'mother', 'son', or 'daughter'. Wolfstar wasn't even her real mother and she kept calling her daughter anytime there was no other clan present. Of course, Mothtuft would never dare ask her why, as she sort of liked having Wolfstar think of her in that way: family.

With her words, Mothtuft found her paws unconsciously quickening and she hurried into her adopted-mother's den. Inside the den, it had a damp smell to it, old pine needles blanketed the floor, and the lighting was incredibly dim.

Mothtuft seated herself on the decaying pine needles, "You called?"

Wolfstar nodded, "I need to talk to you about what happened at the gathering."

"About Hollowstar?" Mothtuft questioned.

The black she-cat snarled and smacked Mothtuft in the jaw, claws unsheathed, leaving small beads of blood forming on her fur. Mothtuft wasn't fazed by the strike; Wolfstar was violent with everyone.

"No! Not about that!" She snapped.

Mothtuft couldn't help but bristle, "You killed a clan leader, Wolfstar, this isn't just some warrior this time! Not only that, but Hollowstar was a favorite, even in the thick of war, cats from other clans liked her! You don't think we're not going to get some sort of backlash!"

"This isn't what I called you in to discuss, daughter."

"I don't care, Wolfstar! You have to try to control your bloodlust-"

Wolfstar cut her medicine cat off with another unsheathed strike to the face, causing Mothtuft to hiss in surprise. Nobody spoke as Mothtuft recovered from the unexpected blow. The den was bathed in a tense silence for several moments, the only sounds to be heard being the oscillating drip of water from somewhere in Wolfstar's den.

"Have you ever killed someone, daughter?" Wolfstar finally asked.

Mothtuft glowered, "You know I haven't."

Wolfstar ignored Mothtuft, instead pacing in a slow circle around her. "It's an addicting experience. You can see the light in their eyes flicker out like a smothered flame, their bodies suddenly slackening…"

The deep yellow medicine cat warily watched her leader while listening to her, knowing this was in fact not an intimidation tactic, but merely how Wolfstar actually felt about murder.

"Whenever you kill, my daughter, you _own_ that cat. They are yours, you possess them, hold their lives in your paws, and when you kill them, they are forever yours. Do you understand?" Wolfstar asked mockingly, the slightest of lick of curiosity shimmering in her yellow irises.

Mothtuft didn't answer, not wanting to get a rouse out of Wolfstar. The sable cat's ears twitched at the lack of response, but didn't call her out on it.

"Are we done with the latest kill story now, daughter? Because we have much more important matters to discuss. The matter of, what did she call them?" Wolfstar gave a genuine pause, "Enforcers, was it? How serious, how solid did you think the other leaders think these plans of hers were?"

Mothtuft didn't bother asking why Wolfstar herself didn't know; Wolfstar often got lost in the hunt, fixating on a prey item and losing sight of whatever may be happening around her. Clearly Hollowstar had taken her attention from Newtstar and Beechstar.

"They seemed willing to look into it." Mothtuft said, "Now with the gruesome public execution of Hollowstar, however, I would expect something to come of her ideas."

Wolfstar snarled, "There you are again with Hollowstar, daughter, she is dead, gone, out of the game! Enough of the pathetic rabbit-eater!"

Mothtuft didn't flinch, shaking her head slightly as her blood slowly spread from her muzzle and glided across her white whiskers to the awaiting floor. "I am merely stating facts, Wolfstar. You cannot just forget this killing, it won't go away, not this time. Before her death, this cat made some big points that obviously caught the attention of RiverClan and ThunderClan."

At the murderous expression on Wolfstar's face, Mothtuft continued, "They fear you, Wolfstar. Both of them know you won't let up and you aren't afraid to kill especially since you so boldly slaughtered a leader."

Wolfstar nodded, satisfied with Mothtuft's explanation, her shoulders relaxing somewhat. "Then I'll just flatten them, I can't have these silly Enforcers running about, daughter."

As Wolfstar stated her resolve, Mothtuft's heart sunk, knowing she wouldn't be letting this go. "I do not doubt you," Mothtuft said simply, her voice flat and without any bias towards or against her adopted mother, knowing either could lead to her downfall.

"Excellent," Wolfstar began, watching with a fascination as more droplets of blood slid down Mothtuft's face, "Now, where's that apprentice of yours?"

Mothtuft stiffened.

"Flashpaw, isn't it? Where is he? I hardly see him," she started, "are you training him?"

"Of course."

"Does he deal well with blood? Emergencies?" She prompted.

"Of course."

"Can he handle himself without you?"

"Of course."

"You seem to have a lot of confidence in him."

"Of course."

"Do you care for him?"

"Of course," Mothtuft said seriously, tacking on, "he's like a son to me, Wolfstar."

Wolfstar nodded, "He's young, too, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's only a few moons into his training."

The dark-pelted cat nodded in disappointment, "Too young to become a full medicine cat, I suppose?"

"Yes, he's only a few moons into his training."

Despondently, Wolfstar stared into nothing, stilling the air. Mothtuft waited patiently for her to come back and lash out, which she did.

"Well, what are you standing here for, daughter?" Wolfstar snapped, "Make that apprentice of yours better, get him ready for war, real war."

Her blood chilled, "Of course, Wolfstar."

When Mothtuft didn't leave, Wolfstar snarled, "What are you still doing here? Get out! Get that tom trained; I want to see him a full medicine cat as soon as possible!"

"But why? He's barely started his training, Wolfstar! This clan is fine with just me, I am still young; I can handle the strain of training Flashpaw and an onslaught of injured ShadowClanners. You cannot rush these things, if Flashpaw isn't properly trained and is expected to do a full medicine cat's duties, he's going to mess up and it's going to hurt ShadowClan. Please, I know what I'm doing." Mothtuft insisted, keeping her voice firm.

Wolfstar narrowed her eyes and stalked forward a pace, her head bowed in a threatening manner, "Daughter, don't make me hit you again. I. Said. Out."

Mothtuft blinked in response, a silent message, before slowly turning and leaving Wolfstar alone in her den.

She could feel Wolfstar's intense glare from behind as she left, and she felt some anxiety thrum through her; soon Flashpaw would be expected to accompany her on these private visits with her. Mothtuft knew Wolfstar wouldn't care how much Mothtuft loved her apprentice, or how young he was, she was still going to hit him, scar him, and there wasn't anything she could do about it. Inwardly, she made a note to plead with StarClan to end the fighting so maybe Wolfstar would tone down her aggression and Flashpaw wouldn't have to get hit like she did. That tom was timid enough without his own leader turning on him whenever he said something that wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear.

When Mothtuft stepped out of her leader's den, she was assaulted by the harsh light of the sun that cut past the thickets of pine that hung overhead. Whitefur was waiting nearby, watching her with some suspicion.

Whitefur unnerved Mothtuft. He wasn't that big for a ShadowClanner, he was smaller than Mothtuft and just about every other fully grown ShadowClan cat. His pelt was slick and thin-looking, barely covering his pink flesh beneath, and his eyes were a piercing blue that had an air of hatred to them. Mothtuft looked closely at his fur to see it was tinged red from the fray that had taken place the night before, sending a shiver down her spine.

Mothtuft didn't approve of a lot of things Wolfstar did, and she was never one to complain too much, but she was tempted to ask Wolfstar to get a new deputy.

"Whitefur." Mothtuft greeted, bowing her head in acknowledgement at him.

Whitefur didn't respond, his icy gaze instead tracing her figure, as though he was memorizing her anatomy for a later reference. He did that often, just watched. When Whitefur's focus made it to her face, she noted that he seemed to pause, looking hungrily at the freshly spilled blood on her face. With that, she picked up her pace, striding past him back to the relative safety of hers and Flashpaw's den.

A ray of light carved out Flashpaw's figure in the den. He immediately noticed her return, and he stopped what he was doing, his eyes widening at the sight of the fresh wounds on Mothtuft's muzzle.

"W-what happened?" He asked, staring with some sort of wonder and horror at her slashed open face.

Mothtuft dismissed his concerns with a flick of her tail, "Just Wolfstar acting up, do not worry about it; they aren't deep."

Flashpaw gave a slight nod, but asked in a troubled tone, "Why does she always hit you?"

Mothtuft didn't answer at first, instead opting to pick up where they left off, sniffing at the herbs. Flashpaw persisted, "Mothtuft-"

"She just has a temper." Mothtuft bit out as softly as she could, wracking her mind for any better ways to explain Wolfstar to Flashpaw. "It's the wars, the battles, they're taking a great toll on her."

Flashpaw shook his head in disapproval, "She shouldn't hit you like that. She shouldn't be hitting anyone like that."

She stiffened, looking behind her to make sure no one was standing close enough to hear Flashpaw's remark, relaxing only slightly after seeing that no one was there. "Flashpaw, watch your tongue; things are tense right now, you just have to understand…" Her voice trailed off as she spoke.

The dark apprentice scoffed at her, "Understand what? That you cannot even go to your leader, the cat that acted like your mother, without getting injured? Wolfstar scares me, terrifies me, actually, but-"

"But nothing." Mothtuft snapped quietly, "We have no control in what happens right now, alright? We've just got to wait this out, and eventually things will get better."

"But what if they don't?" He asked sharply, "What if things just keep getting worse? Mothtuft, she _murdered_ Hollowstar."

Mothtuft growled softly, "You think I don't know that? I saw it, Flashpaw. I watched her stalk Hollowstar during the meeting, I saw her lock onto her throat, I saw her _rip_ Hollowstar's head off." She took a few steps closer to Flashpaw, "I saw StarClan deny a new, young leader of her extra lives. Even StarClan fears Wolfstar's capabilities. Nothing can be done about this."

Flashpaw blanched at his mentor's words, his rare angry outburst silenced. The two watched each other with cloudy eyes and slacked statures before going back to their work without another word.

 **Hi guys! Another chapter's up, and I'm not entirely happy with it, (with both the length and the quality) but I'd rather just keep pushing through than trying to perfect this one (that's how I never finish any of my stories, I try too hard to make every chapter absolutely perfect, then I lose interest). So question: I was originally planning to alternate between Goldenpaw in the present and Mothtuft in the past with the chapters, but I want to make sure I'm not boring everyone to death, so please do tell me if you'd rather me just do nothing but Goldenpaw from here on out. Or I could do a Mothtuft chapter just every so often instead of alternating between the two… whatever tickles your peach, I don't really care. Oh, and yes, Goldenpaw's chapters are all going to be written in that funky Faulkner writing style and Mothtuft is going to be in normal-person writing style, FYI.**

 **And before I go… Does anyone reading this live/or have been to Idaho or Montana? I've gotten some emails from a couple colleges in those two states that say my grades and ACT scores interest them, so I'm looking into them a little more. I live out in the rocky mountain region already (have since I was four, actually), so I'm very used to the cold and high altitudes, if that would be a concern for other people! I would just like some first-hand experiences (good or bad) with those two states in particular if anyone is willing to share!**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **~Spotty**


	5. Chapter 3

**_DNACat: Haha, whatever floats your boat, that's what happened :)_**

 **Lesser Doge Who Isn't Writing: Thanks for responding! It's alright, I probably won't be going to those places, and okay, I'll keep doing what I'm doing with Mothtuft and Goldenpaw. (geez sorry that was an all-around-bad run-on sentence) And thanks again for the complement! I'll keep trying to keep it well-written and interesting!**

 _3:_

The Enforcers were changing clans. Most of RiverClan didn't bother with watching as the Enforcers spoke quietly with each other, gathering on the dry side of camp. It was raining, so most of the Enforcers had terrible expressions and were hunched in irritation; not a single one of them looked unbothered by the common occurrence and it was clear to Goldenpaw that none of them were upset about leaving RiverClan.

Goldenpaw was seated in the mouth of her and Mottlemarsh's den, hardly flinching whenever plump droplets of rain plopped onto her whiskers or eyes. Her pelt was a little damp from sitting outside, making it take on a darker hue of yellow than usual. Her viridian stare was bright with interest as she observed the Enforcers huddle together, as though it would stop the rain, and awkwardly move towards the dry-paw route out of camp in a big, wet clump of cat.

She was so enthralled that she nearly missed Mottlemarsh's raspy call, "Are they gone?"

Goldenpaw jumped at the unexpected sound, whipping her head around to see her mentor hauling herself to her haunches, balancing unsteadily on merely the pads of her feet. She blinked at Mottlemarsh before responding, "No, not yet."

Mottlemarsh gave a slight nod, her body shaking and swaying with the effort of sitting without using her hocks. Goldenpaw felt the urge to go sit beside her so she could lean against her steady frame, but refrained to keep the old she-cat's pride intact. She looked incredibly uncomfortable and Goldenpaw could barely stand it.

"Mottlemarsh, would you like to go outside and stretch your legs a little?" Goldenpaw offered, keeping off the subject of the departing Enforcers and her mentor's unstable footing.

She scoffed, "In the rain?"

 _Goldenpaw trailed behind Mottlemarsh, her plush kitten fur weighed down with rain. She could hear thunder barking in the distance, and occasionally, she'd spy a flash of lightning more towards WindClan territory. She wasn't sure why Mottlemarsh chose this time for their daily stroll along the river when earlier it had been warmer and dry, but she didn't complain. Mottlemarsh loved going on her walks, Goldenpaw could tell even without her saying so. The aging she-cat claimed the walking was to keep her muscles from getting achy and stiff, but Goldenpaw figured it was because she genuinely liked to walk._

Mottlemarsh didn't talk very much on these walks, and when she did, it would be to comment on the river and discuss what they would do when they got back to camp. And no matter what the state of the river was, whether it was grossly swelled with disgusting twoleg junk or dried up to a feeble stem of water, Mottlemarsh would say the same thing.

She did her best to keep pace with Mottlemarsh, her stumpy legs working in overtime so she wouldn't embarrass herself. Despite the cold water saturating her coat, Goldenpaw was panting and felt fatigue sweeping through her; she wasn't used to going on a walk so late in the day after she'd been working.

When Mottlemarsh slowed to a stop at one of the few spots with unobstructed views of the river, Goldenpaw nearly cried out in relief, happily sitting beside her mentor. Mottlemarsh didn't look at Goldenpaw, though, instead staring intently at the water, which swirled and foamed around the rocks jutting out from the river-bottom. The rain continued to pound, and Goldenpaw found it difficult to focus on anything else.

"The river is beautiful today," Mottlemarsh murmured, her meow hardly audible through the storm.

Goldenpaw felt a twinge of annoyance, biting out, "You say that every day!"

She cowered at Mottlemarsh's attention, expecting a harsh reprimanding, but Mottlemarsh held her calm. "Is it a lie?" She asked, coolly.

Goldenpaw peered past Mottlemarsh at the river, "No."

Mottlemarsh turned away from Goldenpaw, "Then I don't see a problem in saying so. The river isn't complimented enough."

 _Goldenpaw nodded, "Yes, in the rain."_

"That'll just make me stiffer. I'd rather sit here." Mottlemarsh grunted, wrapping her thin tail around her trembling paws.

"You made me walk in the rain when I was younger all the time." Goldenpaw said almost accusingly, "It wasn't that long ago."

Mottlemarsh glowered at her apprentice, "I was younger then, too."

"Not by much, just a few moons." Goldenpaw replied.

"Goldenpaw, you should know by now that a lot can happen to an elder like me in even one moon's time. I can't and I won't go outside until the rain ceases." She growled out like it painful for her to admit.

The sun-colored apprentice was quiet for a moment, before prodding at her again. "Not even for the river?"

Without hesitation, Mottlemarsh said, "I would love to go see the river, Goldenpaw. Just not right now. Why do you want me out so badly?"

Goldenpaw looked at her paws, which were stained brown from the mud underpaw. "You just haven't left the den in a long time, is all. So, if you won't go to the river in the rain, how about when it starts?" She offered, tearing her eyes away from Mottlemarsh's fading frame to glance back at the Enforcers, who were still muttering out in the rain.

"No, not after the rain, either." Mottlemarsh replied, a not so subtle hint of irritation in her tone.

"Then when?"

"I will go on one last walk with you, Goldenpaw, to the river; just not today."

 _"Why do you like the river so much?" Goldenpaw asked, rain still matting into her coat, which hadn't become water-proof quite yet like the other RiverClanners' had._

"Same reason every RiverClanner does. She keeps other clans away, gives us food, and discourages foxes and badgers that ShadowClan and ThunderClan are pestered with from bothering us." Mottlemarsh answered simply, as though she should know this already.

Goldenpaw sensed that Mottlemarsh hadn't spoken the whole truth, but let it go. She wasn't wanting to argue in the dark while it was raining so harshly with Mottlemarsh.

 _"When will that be then, Mottlemarsh?" Goldenpaw pressed, "Because one of these days I know you aren't going to be able to get up, and you'll have missed your shot."_

Mottlemarsh glowered at Goldenpaw, "I will know when it's my last day to walk, and it's not today, so there is no need to help me struggle out of camp. It can wait."

"Mottlemarsh-"

"Enough, Goldenpaw!" She snapped irritably, painfully staggering to her paws and waddling towards the maw of the den.

Goldenpaw's jaws clamped shut and she moved a little to allow Mottlemarsh a place beside her to watch the Enforcers. A somewhat uncomfortable pause ensued, with only the pitter-patter of the rain outside to fill the silence.

She could recognize most of the Enforcers in the bunch, aside from a few young ones who recently joined the shift. Goldenpaw had internally given each cat a nickname based on their appearance to keep track of the lot. Most were called the color of their coats, unless there were more than one cat with the same pattern of fur, then she would use their eye-color or even whisker-lengths to name them.

Despite the different pelt and eye-colors, all of the Enforcers had the same personality, the same temperament. None of them purred, their tails were never pointed towards the sky with that light-hearted curl at the top, and their eyes looked sharp and cold without a trace of mercy. It made Goldenpaw wonder how the older Enforcers raised the kits poached from their mothers, how they could just erase personality like they seemed to do.

She thought of Owlface and how she went blank, but Goldenpaw didn't feel that Owlface did what the Enforcers did to the young recruitments any justice. In a way, they reminded her of twoleg monsters, the big, thundering beasts that flew down certain paths, all at the same speed and in the same direction.

 _A foul scent assaulted Goldenpaw's senses as she continued to toddle dutifully after Stormypaw and a few of her friends; she only knew Owlpaw personally from the bunch. Before they had all left, Stormypaw had unloaded the four other names of the apprentices tagging along, but forgot nearly every name just as it was said, the only one that stuck being Flutterpaw. Flutterpaw was a dainty thing, white-furred with tan details in her coat and bright blue eyes, she was the oldest of the group, too, at ten moons old. She didn't seem like a typical RiverClanner, as her fur was incredibly thin, glossy and waterproof, nonetheless, but it still seemed flat next to most of their clanmates._

Of the three she didn't know the names of, only one was a tom. He was the youngest, the newest apprentice; there'd been a ceremony for it and everything very recently, Goldenpaw just couldn't find it in herself to remember his name. He was a plain cat, too, a typical RiverClanner. His paws were webbed, his kitten-fur plush and stone-colored, and his eyes were still a fading kit-blue that had yet to change. Goldenpaw liked his whiskers the best though, they were extra long and sensitive, pricking at the lightest of sensations, making them entertaining to watch. She did her best to keep it discreet, though.

The other two she-cats were nearly identical, and were just a half-moon younger than Flutterpaw; the three appeared to be very close, playfully jabbing at each other with genial words at the head of the group. Both had a mottled black and brown pelt that reminded Goldenpaw of the sort of mud she would find at the riverbank, and their amber irises were light, so light, that sometimes she swore they were colorless. Their poofy tails were tipped white like foxes, waving in the moonlit sky like beacons that were hard for Goldenpaw to look away from.

Stormypaw was jovial, her eyes alight with mirth as she pranced around behind the mud-colored she-cats and Flutterpaw beside Owlpaw, who looked just as excited as she did. The plain-looking tom with the long whiskers trailed behind them, but off to the side as though he was nervous that the pair would knock him over. None of them seemed to be bothered by the off-putting smell like she was, though.

Goldenpaw brought up the rear, somewhat nervous to be out; she knew when Mottlemarsh found out about this that she would be in a world of trouble; the old she-cat disciplined her more than her own mother had.

She knew it was wrong to be out, but she didn't regret doing it, in fact, she only felt remorse that she didn't know any of the cats her own age in her own clan besides her sister and Owlpaw. It didn't mean she was any less nervous about it, though.

"Stormypaw," Goldenpaw called, prompting her stumpy legs to go faster, "Are you sure we're supposed to be out here?"

Stormypaw briefly glanced back at Goldenpaw, "Yeah! Come on, stop worrying, you're going to love this! Lighten up, talk to Graypaw! Just because he's young doesn't mean he isn't fun!"

Goldenpaw sighed in relief to herself; Graypaw, that was his name: a boring name for a boring cat, she mused to herself.

Graypaw's pelt flushed under Stormypaw's words, and he flashed Goldenpaw a shy look before darting closer to the front. She felt stab of disappointment at the blatant rejection, but didn't have time to think of it for long.

She felt the ground shake before she was able to register the blaring, unforgettable noise. Her frame cowered, her eyes widened to the size of saucers, and a large stripe of raised fur rode down along her spine to her even larger tail. Goldenpaw had never heard such a sound and had never felt the earth below her tremble like that. Then, like clockwork, a harsh beam of light blinded Goldenpaw and fear pulsed through her; she though she was going to die.

When the light passed and the ground calmed, a shaking Goldenpaw looked to up see that she was the only one reacting this way. Graypaw seemed somewhat unnerved by it, but not too bothered. Flutterpaw, Owlpaw, Stormypaw, and the mud-colored cats stared enthralled where the deafening noise and bright lights had been moments before.

Stormypaw whipped around, purring loudly, "See? Wasn't that great, Goldenpaw? That was a twoleg monster."

Goldenpaw didn't respond, her still-wide eyes trained in disbelief where the monster had just flown down; she didn't seem to hear Stormypaw, but she did.

"Yeah, that was great." She said slowly, like she was trying convince herself of it.

 _The Enforcers were probably as deadly as twoleg monsters, too, capable of destroying a clan cat with a single blow… No. Goldenpaw shook her head lightly at herself; she was giving these cats too much credit, they were just ordinary cats who were blown up to look like all-powerful beings._

"We might get a few young Enforcers this time around," Goldenpaw remarked to Mottlemarsh, who gave a less than ebullient grunt.

"Hope not, all that means is that we're stuck with these stupid cats for another generation." She huffed, her ever-swaying body bumping softly against Goldenpaw's as she struggled to sit.

Goldenpaw glanced at Mottlemarsh, "Well they aren't just going to magically go away, something needs to happen for them to leave."

Mottlemarsh huffed, "Something already has happened, the clans are just blind fools, fish-brains. These 'Enforcers' are so overbearing, they make every breath we take onerous, difficult; they certainly are not removing the strain from clan life. Sure, they keep us from fighting each other, but our day-to-day lives are terrible."

She rolled her eyes, "You're exaggerating, yes, they are annoying from time to time, but I wouldn't go so far as to call them burdensome."

The ailing she-cat gave her apprentice a harsh glare, "You've seen what they can do, Goldenpaw."

 _The group of apprentices bounded through the forest, Goldenpaw still lagging in the back. Her nostrils still burned with the stink of twoleg monster, but she didn't dare to complain about it; her reaction to the twoleg monster was embarrassing enough._

She felt a sense of comfort once the familiar feel of squishy mud squelched beneath her webbed paws and reeds began to scrub at her sides as she ran beside her fellow-apprentices. Her strides became cleaner and more defined at the blossom of confidence the marshland bestowed upon her, and she managed to pass Graypaw and keep astride the mud-colored she-cats.

A snarl made Goldenpaw's gallop falter and she nearly fell head-first into the muck underpaw. She heard a voice, but she couldn't quite make out the words, so she scented the air to see if she could pinpoint who it was. The smell was somewhat familiar, but not enough so that she could come up with a name. Nervously, Goldenpaw slithered through the reeds, careful not to let them rustle as she moved closer. Her heart was beating so quickly that it hurt, not that she paid it too much notice, her focus transfixed on whoever was talking. As she neared the possible confrontation, Goldenpaw picked out the Flutterpaw's voice, but still couldn't place the other, the one who snarled.

She crept closer, feeling somewhat skilled for not being noticed in such touchy-terrain like the reeds, which tended to rustle and snap at even the kindest of breezes. Goldenpaw winced when the unfamiliar voice barked clearly, "And you, yellow-furred cat, out of the reeds; I see you, too!"

Goldenpaw's eyes widened again and she could feel her chest tightening for the second time in a row that night as she slunk out from the protection of the reeds, not bothering to muffle the crunches. Her head was low as was her tail, which was poofed up in fright.

She didn't dare say a word as she took in the situation: her group she'd gone with to the Thunderpath were lined up beside each other with a tall, broad-shouldered black tom facing the line with a hateful glare. "Line up, too, medicine cat status isn't going to save you, yellow-fur, now go, line up."

Goldenpaw didn't make eye-contact with the tom, forcing herself to move quickly. She quivered at his words, how he knew who she was, but she didn't know who he was.

Stormypaw was at one end of the row, so she sat beside her. Immediately, Stormypaw pressed her pale fur flush against Goldenpaw's for a subtle comfort for the both of them. She watched the tom. He seemed to focus most of his bad temper at Flutterpaw, who he had deemed leader of the band of apprentices; he knew her name, which didn't seem to surprise her. Goldenpaw wondered if he had only stopped them because of her, but shook the thought away because he knew who she was, too.

Most of the group squealed when the tom lashed out violently at Flutterpaw, shredding one of her dainty ears and earning a cry of pain from the young she-cat. Goldenpaw was surprised when no one moved to help her, but didn't speak out.

As the black cat continued to hiss primarily at Flutterpaw, Goldenpaw gained the courage to ask Stormypaw a simple question.

"Who is that?" Goldenpaw whispered, keeping her head faced forward and her voice hushed as she did so.

Stormypaw did the same, "It's an Enforcer."

 _"That's beside the point, Mottlemarsh, and it's not like anyone died. We all just made a stupid mistake-"_

Mottlemarsh scoffed, "Stupid? That's an enormous understatement! You were barely into training and you let your screw-up of a sister coax you into sneaking out of camp to watch twoleg beasts! That Enforcer struck you, he could've killed you!"

Goldenpaw's pelt bristled at her sister's description, seemingly not hearing the rest of Mottlemarsh's words. "Stormypath's not a screw-up."

"Stormypath nearly didn't become a warrior!" Her mentor retorted.

 _Goldenpaw sat beside a worried Pebbletail on the outskirts of the clan gathering. Most of the clan was there, as this was the largest group of apprentices to become warriors all at once that RiverClan had seen in moons. Flutterpaw, Owlpaw, Barkpaw, Mallowpaw, Volepaw, and Beetlepaw were all clustered near the bottom of the sizeable rock that Nettlestar would perch upon any moment now to give them their warrior names._

Goldenpaw's mother fretfully glanced between the group of awaiting apprentices and the entrances to camp. There wasn't much time left.

"Oh Stormypaw…. Where are you, where are you?" Pebbletail murmured anxiously, pacing around her other daughter.

The sun-colored she-cat felt helpless; Stormypaw was later every so often, but she'd figured her sister wouldn't miss her own ceremony, no matter how badly she wanted to go swimming or bask in the sunshine.

"I can go looking for her." Goldenpaw offered, grasping at any thought that could get Stormypaw to her ceremony on time; she knew Stormypaw didn't want to miss this, and it was apparent that Pebbletail would be devastated if her daughter's warrior ceremony got postponed because she couldn't bother to show up.

Pebbletail's pale gray head snapped towards Goldenpaw, her amber eyes lighting up with hope, "Yes! Great StarClan, yes, go find her! I'll stall Nettlestar-"

"RiverClan, I gather you here to welcome seven new warriors to RiverClan," Nettlestar's voice boomed, silencing the crowd, but exciting the apprentices waiting beside the boulder. He was still standing, and made no move to sit down like usual; Goldenpaw figured it was curtesy to the special occasion of having so many new warriors to celebrate.

Pebbletail nearly fell over at his words in anguish, "No, no, no!"

"D-don't worry, Pebbletail, I'll find her, alright?" Goldenpaw stammered, feeling alarm rush over her when she realized that Stormypaw might have to suffer the humiliation of being held back until Graypaw's ceremony, which was at least two moons away.

Pebbletail didn't respond, so Goldenpaw took off as discreetly as she could to find Stormypaw, checking over her shoulder every once in a while to make sure she wasn't stealing anyone's attention. 

_Jumping to her sister's defense, Goldenpaw snapped, "Yes, she was late to her own warrior ceremony, I get it, but how in the world does that make her a screw-up?"_

"She wouldn't have made it at all if you hadn't found her, that's what makes her a screw-up, she can't handle any responsibility. If it were up to me, she'd still be Stormypaw! She's not fit to be a warrior, a kit's got more sense than she does!" She accused, vehemently.

"Stormypath has plenty of sense!" Goldenpaw protested.

"Keep talking like that and I might start thinking you're as dull as she is!"

"Mottlemarsh, she is a good warrior now! I'll admit things were shaky with her in the beginning, but she's good now-"

"Well I'll never trust her, Goldenpaw, and nothing you ever say about your sister will make me respect her." Mottlemarsh hissed bitterly, unintentionally swaying into the den's wall beside her and nearly fell.

Goldenpaw felt a flash of concern for her until Mottlemarsh straightened herself out again, a glare fixed on her face. "You need to stop defending everyone, Goldenpaw, especially that no-good sister of yours; cats are going to start taking advantage of you." Mottlemarsh grumbled, her glare softening somewhat.

"I really wish you wouldn't say those things about Stormypath." Goldenpaw responded, hoping to earn an 'I'm sorry' or at least an 'I won't do that anymore' from Mottlemarsh.

Instead, she sniffed, "And I wish we didn't have Enforcers, but life doesn't work that way, now does it?"

Goldenpaw wisely ignored her comment and went back to watching the Enforcers, who had begun to shuffle towards the dry-paw path. Mottlemarsh was watching, too, and her demeanor, while still stiff, had slackened a smidge. Her jaws parted to release a foul-smelling yawn, followed by her getting to her unsteady paws and hobbling back to her nest.

Curiously, Goldenpaw inquired, "Done watching already?"

"Yes. My wish has been temporarily granted, so I'm going to sleep well for a little bit while I can; your wish is granted for a little, too, so go enjoy it." Mottlemarsh grunted, working her way back into a comfortable position in her nest.

It took a moment for Mottlemarsh's words to register before she responded, "I will."

Mottlemarsh flicked her tail in response, and a comfortable silence accompanied by the gentle tapping of rain settled over space.

 **Heyo! Thanks for reading this chapter of Haze! I wrote most of this outside with my cat, Barley (yes, I named him after Ravenpaw's buddy, and no, he looks nothing like the Barley from the book, he's a brown tabby/every-cat), whom I shoved in the cat tube (which is a netted tube that I put him in so he won't run away or kill birds or bugs or something) and it was great. Um... hang on, I'll think of something more interesting to say... oh! Here's an idea: you guys who aren't ghost-readers should say if you have a cat or not or something... or you can just tell me to shut up, either way I'm good (: Oh and based on feedback, the next chapter is probably going to be another Mothtuft chapter unless someone says otherwise. Feedback is always appreciated, but just getting reads is good enough for me!**

 **Thanks guys!**

 **~Spotty**


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